The Three Merry Friends of Ettingswimple: A Christmas Story
(Part 2)
Gilthorp had gone out to purchase decorations for Thimbleweed’s party. He made his way down the snowy street with an armload of evergreen boughs, having just purchased them from a peddler. Pausing at a street corner he spotted a large wheelbarrow, beside which stood a very little boy holding a very little potted white flower.
“Buy a Christmas lily, milord?” said the child.
“Is that a Christmas lily?” Gilthorp asked, having not heard him. “How much?”
“Three pennies, milord.”
“I say, dear lad, are you a mute? Poor thing. Well, then—I shall give you ten pennies for your flower, and another fifteen pennies if I can borrow you and your wheelbarrow.”
“Aye, milord!” chirped the boy, the thought of money soothing him after the insult of being called mute.
Gilthorp dumped his load of greens in the boy’s empty wheelbarrow, and perched the little potted lily on top. Then he handed the boy a fistful of coins and said: “Follow me with that wheelbarrow, lad, for we have much more shopping to do!”
Gilthorp went into a shop to purchase a dozen tiny tin lanterns with the shape of a star punched into the tin.
“Aren’t these the most magnificently festive little lanterns?” he said upon returning, balancing the crate of lanterns atop the greenery in the wheelbarrow. “And I bought you a peppermint, my boy.” He handed the boy a stick of striped candy. The boy had figured out that Gilthorp was hard of hearing, so he grinned and nodded and bowed his thanks, and the with candy stick in his mouth, he wrestled the wheelbarrow into motion.
“I wish I knew your name, lad,” commented Gilthorp loudly as they continued down the street. “But since you are unable to speak, I shall have to give you a name. I have it! I shall call you Algie.”
Algie? thought the boy with distaste. His real name was Bram.
They passed another greens-peddler, this one selling holly; a pet dragon wearing a red wool jacket sat beside the wagon, holding a bucket of coins in its mouth.
“Holly! How jolly!” exclaimed Gilthorp. “Oh, how droll, I have made a rhyme!”
After dumping a hearty number of coins into the jacket-clad dragon’s payment bucket, Gilthorp managed to balance all of the holly boughs upon the over-taxed wheelbarrow without anything falling. The newly-christened Algie managed to heave the barrow into motion again.
After buying a Christmas tree, glass baubles painted in gold, and garlands of nuts and berries, Gilthorp led Bram and the overloaded wheelbarrow back to Thimbleweed’s house.
“Gilthorp, dear chap, what wonders you have brought!” exclaimed Thimbleweed, clapping his hands.
Shaquita-Marie the dragon greeted Bram with a curious sniff, and then joined her master in gushing over the Christmas decorations. Bram, a bit nervous around large dogs and pet dragons, helped to unload the wheelbarrow.
Gilthorp introduced the boy as Algie the mute lad while he set up the Christmas tree.
“Pleased to meet you, milord,” squeaked Bram.
“Charmed. And how well-spoken you are for a mute lad,” said Thimbleweed, giving him a wink. “You look tired, dear Algie. Why don’t you visit my kitchen and see if Cook has anything she might give you?”
“Thank you, milord!”
Down in the kitchen, Cook served him some bread and soup.
“I’m an orphan now, but my parents called me Bram,” said the boy as he ate. “Master Gilthorp decided to call me Algie. He says I am mute, but I think it’s because he’s hard of hearing.”
Cook chuckled lightly. “Yes, that is true. Well, just between us, I shall call you Bram. My real name is Sarah, though I doubt anyone knows that—I’m always called Cook.”
Bram grinned. “Then just between us, I shall call you Sarah!”
“It is agreed!” She smiled and they shook hands. “It will be a pleasure to have you here, Bram, for Master Thimbleweed’s superlative Christmas party!”
(To be concluded next week.)